Liable Scoundrels United
by nitrolead
Summary: Dear Lady Liberty, I just got here and met the Allies. Braginsky doesn’t respond when I call him “Aquaman” and no one calls me “Captain America” like I told them to. Mom, have I been in isolation for too long?... Story starts in media res in 1945.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I've watched five of Quentin Tarantino's films and I enjoyed the style with which they were done enough for my fingers to itch. When I scrached that itch, I got a _Hetalia _fic. For those of you that are unfamiliar with Tarantino, his films are known for their violence and moments of light humor coupled with his unique method of presentation. This is my attempt to replicate that method unto this fandom. Remember, this is not a crossover with any of his films!

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Chapter 01- New Toy

_August 6, 1945_

The summer in Japan was hot, but tolerable. Outside Kiku Honda's home, Alfred F. Jones was bending around obstacles in the yard in combat uniform. As it was morning, it was a horrible time to be carrying out a mission where utmost discretion was pivotal to the success of it. But he needed the sun to see where he was going and primarily, to find his target.

Entering the house from a side door near the garden, Alfred slowly proceeded by placing one foot before the other to lessen the noise his boots created when they made contact with the hardwood floors.

Not too long ago, the need for creeping around would have been unnecessary. Alfred would have used the front door like any other civilized human being and taken off his shoes before entering in observance of Honda's hygiene preferences. But frankly, this wasn't a friendly visit. No, it was far from it.

No one would come to save Honda. Germany and the rest of Europe were beaten to a pulp and unable to get himself back up again without the help of the Allies. The war had ended over there. But it was still raging on in this region. Alfred had secured the help of the rest of the Allies, but the brunt of the work would fall on him to finish it all. He was Captain America after all.

Alfred's back ached from the constant crouching. Leaning against a wall, he took a quick rest and replayed a certain event that had led him here.

In his hands he held a weapon he'd been told would end it all.

When Alfred had heard that, it took much effort from whooping for joy in front of his commanders. The strategy of hopping from island to island throughout the war had proven costly and difficult and after more than three years and all that work, he was finally within range of Japan to be able to snipe his home whenever he was ordered to.

With the mainland so close and Okinawa his, it was only a matter of time before the order came.

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"_Alfred, the time has come to end this war."_

_Boss took a swig of his brand and sighed. "Japan in all its history has never been successfully invaded. The Mongols got close, but they failed."_

_Boss paused to lean back before neatly cupping his hands to assume a serious demeanor. "What I'm trying to say here, son, is that we aim to be the first."_

_Alfred was slow on the uptake. Slowly, but surely, his eyes widened. "Are you crazy?" His said in a piqued voice. "That would take forever! Have you seen them fight?" He demanded, "Have you seen them up close? Those sons of bitches never stop trying to kill us!" He slammed his fist on Boss's table, filling the room with the tinkering sound of ice cubes hitting their glass container. _

"_We are well aware of that, Jones." Boss addressed him calmly and used his last name to remind him of his position, "Operation Downfall is scheduled to begin in October and it's going to be a helluva fight since doesn't take a genius to know from where we'll be coming to invade… given the geography."_

_Alfred grimaced. The only question to ask now was how many. "Heavy casualties?"_

"_Yes," his boss replied sadly. "Heavy." _

_There was a silence as Alfred got his mind around the idea that he would have to spend yet another year away from home to continue fighting. _

"_We've prepared 500,000 Purple Hearts in advance."_

_At this, Alfred flinched as removed his glasses roughly and pinched the bridge of his nose to keep the tears from flowing. _

_He was a hero._

_He would not cry. _

_He would not cry. _

"_There will also be civilian casualties," his boss spoke, "The numbers are dependent on how many decide to join the resistance, which, judging from your reports will likely be high."_

_Alfred nodded and cleared his throat. He refused to wipe the little water that had bypassed his will-power as it would be a sign of weakness he had no desire to show and one Boss had no desire to see. _

" _I understand."_

_Boss stood up from behind the desk and offered him a glass of rum, which he took eagerly. His shoulder was patted sadly several times and no words were spoken after that. Alfred left the base and with a heavy heart, returned to help Arthur and Wang force Honda out of Burma's home. _

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Alfred hoisted himself of the wall and continued his trek through the house, careful to avoid the sunlight streaming through the many windows adorning the hallways. He remembered paying a visit to Honda's home almost fifty years ago to relax after having a strenuous argument with the Philippines. Alfred would joke at conferences that several door frames in the Honda residence were permanently dented from his either forgetting to duck or not ducking low enough.

How times change. Now, he was clenching his jaw with the determination to do him as much damage as possible. What Alfred had been ordered to do would have horrible effects of a nature that no one had ever witnessed outside of the testing sites. Such a weapon had never been used in warfare.

Even without his bombers jacket and loosened necktie, he was still sweating.

Alfred approached the main room that no doubt held his sleeping target. He quietly opened the door and controlled his breathing before entering.

Moving slowly across the room, he noticed that Honda was sleeping on his stomach on a futon, the sort that was bordered with a wooden frame. Alfred was careful to avoid obstructing the sunlight washing the futon from the eastern window. The sleeping man, tired as he was, no doubt had learned in all his years of fighting Wang and the other residents of this neighborhoods to be a light sleeper.

Alfred checked his watch: it was little past eight in the morning. His orders said that he would be attacking a specific part of Japan. As if called upon by destiny, Honda's right elbow was resting on top of the wooden frame, leaving his forearm and hand outside of the confines of the futon.

Due to the low stature of the futon and Alfred's height, the difference was perfect if he wanted to maximize the damage.

Gravity would be his friend for today.

Alfred gripped the taped handle of his aluminum baseball bat. Before leaving base, he'd noticed that someone had written "Little Boy" on the barrel. He raised the weapon, quickly gauging how close he would have to position himself so that when the bat connected with Honda's flesh, it would be the tip that made contact.

Ready, Alfred raised the bat and smiled.

"Good morning sunshine!" Alfred swung the bat with all his might.

The impact of metal with bone reverberated up the barrel and quickly into his palms so that he was able to feel the cracking of the shattered elbow. Honda awakened with a pained howl. Alfred harshly brought his heel down on Honda's hand to keep the arm in place the same instant the man tried to pull his arm away, which only brought upon another series of cries. Honda in his pained desperation attempted to wrap his free arm around Alfred leg to pull him down, but the American simply kicked the effort away.

Alfred raised the bat again and gave two heavy blows to the same area.

One.

Two.

Amid the screams, Alfred balanced the baseball bat on his elbow and observed his work. He was surprised Honda was still conscious as was evidenced his flailing and accompanying shrieks. Alfred hadn't planned on that.

Wang lived next door and Ivan not too far away-- he didn't want either of them to see the damage brought upon his by new weapon.

Honda was striking Alfred's shin to get him to remove the boot on his chest holding him down.

Honda had to keep quiet. He was screaming too much.

In his panic, Alfred decided to knock him out. A blow to the head with the same weapon would kill him, and neither Alfred nor his bosses wanted that. Instead, he gripped the barrel with his right hand, the handle with his left, and gave a quick jab to Honda's skull. The metal stopper hit something sensitive, thus spraying Alfred's left hand and sleeve with blood.

That seemed to do the trick.

Alfred gave a quick glance outside before removing his boot off Honda's chest. He took a few minutes to steady his breathing and to wipe away the blood with the bed sheets. He wiped his brow and straightened himself before leaning over Honda's futon.

"Let's see you try to fight now."

Alfred exited the room, giving a few sample check swings in the hallways as he whistled _Take Me Out to the Ball Game_.

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A/N: Whaddya think? The format of the summary probably threw many of you off, but like I said, it starts _in media res_. The story will adopt a new format in the second chapter, much like the one diplayed in the summary and the styles and perspectives will change as the story progresses. R&R Ladies and Gentlemen!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This chapter definitely does a 360 compared to the last chapter. Well, I hope you enjoy it.

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**Chapter 02- Introductions**

_February 1942_

Alfred breathed in the cool winter air of wherever it is that he was. He felt the little patches of snow on the ground give off a crunching sound as he walked over to the group of four men eating their breakfast rations.

"Alrighty gentlemen, we find ourselves today in enemy territory," he announced cheerfully to get their attention. "Before we begin, I'd like to take a moment to introduce ourselves--"

"For crying out loud!" A familiar voice huffed. "We've all occupied the same God forsaken Earth for hundreds of years, Alfred!"

The group didn't seem at all fazed by the sudden display of impatience. Then again, they had all experienced louder disturbances in the form of bombs and bullets in recent years.

"That there, gentlemen," Alfred pointed at his former guardian with his thumb, "is Arthur Kirkland, who is an expert in the art of being an asshole."

The man with the bushy eyebrows responded with a glare before grumbling something about freezing his ass off.

Satisfied, Alfred continued. "Without further interruptions, I'll begin: My name is Alfred F. Jones. My hobbies include reading comic books, going to the movies, playing baseball and investigating what the F in my name stands for. I like drinking Coke and eating hamburgers, for it is truly the breakfast, lunch, and dinner of champions!"

Alfred ignored the four pairs of rolling eyes.

"This guy is supposed to be leading the war?"

"Who said that?"

Alfred waited for an answer. The tall man with the scarf was staring and the guy with the flashy uniform was giving him a disconcerting wink. The short one was clearly spacing out as he sipped his tea. Arthur had his arms crossed and was tapping his foot impatiently as he checked his pocket watch.

"Okay, next person, uhh...you. With the scarf."

"My name is Ivan Braginsky. I do not appre--"

"Oh right!" Alfred snapped his fingers with a smile. "I forgot to include something. When it's your turn to go around, I will be telling you what your codename for our first mission will be. Please address me as Captain America! Sorry for the interruption, Eye-vin. Please continue."

"I do not appreciate it when I am addressed as Eye-vin, as Mr. Jones has demonstrated. It is Ivan-- not Eye-vihn."

"Uh-huh. Your hobbies?"

"Ah, yes. I enjoy watching others play roulette, reading depressing novels, and drinking vodka by the fireside. In addition, you will all be one with Russia."

Alfred's eyebrow wasn't the only one to lift at the last point.

"... and there you have it. Mr. Braginsky, you shall be…. Aquaman!"

"Oh! So you were serious! Can I be the Robin Hood then?"

"No."

"_Merda_."

"What'd you say?"

"If you took some time learning other nations languages, _Jonesy_, you'd know that he said 'shit'."

Alfred ignored Arthur's comment and instead pointed at the man with the long-hair. "You there. I haven't seen you in decades. Who're you?"

"I am Francis Bonnefoy, my good sir. I enjoy--"

"Sorry for interrupting, but doesn't the French military require their enlisted men receive a routine haircut?"

"He did get his haircut, Jonesy. You might not know this, but the war existed long before you came in."

"Ouch, Kirkland." Alfred grimaced comically. "Why so uppity today?"

"_Mi camarade, _Arthur is simply upset that you've been woman-chasing in his house. I keep telling him that a little _amour_ here and there never hurt anyone."

"Arty!" The American beamed, "You never told me you had a crush on Ireland!"

"Are you mad?!" The Englishman unfolded his arms, "That crazy bitch hates my guts!"

"Wales then?" Alfred offered, "She's got a pretty language, 'ya know?"

..

.

Alfred saw an opportunity. "You like her? Awwwww…."

"No I don't! You damn Yank!"

"You do! You do!"

"Ey! Is it true that Wales has a dragon tattoo on her--"

"THAT IS ENOUGH!"

The American and Frenchman stopped their teasing to look at the short man. Even the Russian looked startled to hear something of that volume leave such a small source.

"Right. We've sidetracked too much. Bonnefoy continue."

"As I said, my name is Francis Bonnefoy. I enjoy wine tasting and having conversations with pretty girls. My cuisine is undoubtedly the best in the world. Never mind those Italians say."

"Okay, you'll be... the Sausage Man."

Francis blinked. "Why the 'Sausage Man'?"

"I dunno I'm hungry."

"Fair enough."

"Kirkland? Your turn."

"My name's Arthur. I hate the French and I like a good cup of tea after playing cricket. I do NOT have a crush on Wales and after the war, I hope to travel the world."

"You'll be Alice."

"ALICE!?! What the bloody hell you damn git!"

"That temper…" Alfred rubbed his ears. As he was doing so, his eyes fell upon the lone member with a conical-shaped hat.

"Ah? And who are you?"

"Wang Yao, from China. Aru."

"Oh. I hadn't seen you. Where were you?"

"On the other side of the world, Captain America, aru."

"I like you already, Mr. Yao."

The Chinese man nodded and took the American's comment as a sign to proceed. "I am Wang Yao and I hail from China. I hate the English, but the Japanese the most. I enjoy playing mahjong while drinking a cup of tea. Aru."

"Thank you Mr. Yao. You shall be… Mr. Frog."

Alfred put his hands on his hips and smiled at his team. "Gentlemen! Now that we are acquainted with one another, let's finish breakfast. We'll go over the details of the mission later."

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A/N: Yep, I hope you enjoyed it. R&R Ladies and Gentlemen!


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